The Soldier's Tale Read Online Free Page B

to his car, judging he could just reverse from the hedge. Nothing gripped too tight to the ruined bodywork. He flicked on his hazard lights as a warning just in case there were any more cars on the road. Pulling out his mobile phone, he moved back to crouch by Daniel, his free hand automatically touching around the knee, watching the grimace of pain twist the man's face. He dialled emergency services, identified himself and began to explain—
    "No 'bulance," Daniel ground out. Sean hesitated, told the operator to hold, and covered the mouthpiece. There was intense desperation in Daniel's voice, in his wide eyes, and the creases of pain that bracketed his mouth.
    "Are you going to let me help you stand then?" Sean waited, counting to five in his head.
    "F-f-fuck—okay." Daniel was cursing a blue storm, but calmly Sean explained how the patient was ambulatory, he was providing assistance, and cancelled the call. Then he pocketed the phone and braced himself to help up the solidly built guy who was almost curled in on himself in obvious distress. Finally, Daniel was standing, leaning most of his weight on Sean, and there was no way he should be walking under his own steam. Except… Sod it. He was. He walked a few steps away, stumbling and dragging his bad leg.
    "Get in the car," Sean snapped. "I'll take you home." Daniel kept walking, well, limping, not really walking, and stopping. "Bloody idiot. Get in the car, Francis."
    Daniel stopped fully, but didn't turn. "You know m-m-my name?" His words sounded less lucid with each syllable he uttered, and Daniel contemplated phoning back nine-nine-nine just to get some help to move his stubborn arse.
    "You're one of our patients. Of course I know your bloody name," Sean defended quickly, unexpectedly aware he had clearly crossed a subtle line with the soldier broken in the dark. Maybe revealing he knew him, and likely in a more intimate way than most, was probably a very bad thing on Daniel's scale of bad things. Daniel visibly slumped in place, his shoulders loosening from where they had been so rigid before. Sean sensed victory, just wishing he felt less like it was Daniel verging on unconsciousness and more that Daniel saw Sean was right. "Are you getting in the car?" he added quickly.
    "Can't move." Simple words but they dripped with a biting terror, and Sean's heart turned. The compassion that he wore like a second skin snapped alive, and in seconds, he was there, remembering the notes that it was Daniel's left side that was damaged and scarred. He slipped under the taller man's right arm, taking his weight. With as much strength as he possessed, he finally managed to get them both to the car door. Daniel's breaths were fast and uneven, catching snatches of desperate air as his eyes slid closed. Getting him into the car was easy enough; it was like he simply slid in, boneless, and semi-conscious. He was clearly in a place where he could handle the pain, and Sean couldn't even begin to contemplate how dark that place must be. He didn't worry about the belt, couldn't untwist it from around Daniel's lax body, and cursed as branches pulled and gripped his car viciously, paintwork scratched to buggery. Shit.
    Within a minute or so, thanking the gods she started and pulled out of the tangle of tree roots and bushes, Sean was at the surgery, the best place for Daniel he thought. The closest safe flat surface was his front room and the sofa bed that he could pull out. He quickly arranged what he needed, then guided the semi-conscious soldier in through the wide door and to the thin mattress. It wasn't the best bed in the world, but the patient was at least lying still.
    "I'm coming back." He returned to the front door, closing it on the night outside and then grabbed his bag before settling on his knees next to Daniel. "Can you tell me what you've taken, Daniel?"
    "Don shtake… drugs…" Daniel slurred, forming each word slowly.
    "I mean your meds," Sean explained patiently, "your